


Hollowed

by Woodrokiro



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodrokiro/pseuds/Woodrokiro
Summary: They call her a miracle, but he looks at her as if she's normal. It scares her. Fantasy/Futuristic/Zombie Apocalypse-ish AU





	Hollowed

In an Old book she snuck out of Master Yamamoto's quarters, she reads about a child goddess.

It's like reading a fairy tale. Not so long ago, in a place not so far away (maybe, perhaps: how would she know?), there was a country that believed a goddess of some kind would leap into a lovely young girl, inhabiting her body until she first bleeds, menstrual or otherwise. The goddess' spirit then flees to another child, leaving the young girl confused and no longer considered immortal by her people. But until then: the girls lived lavishly, eating whatever they wished, wearing only the finest of jewelry and silks upon their skin and commanding whoever they wanted.

Rukia cannot keep her eyes off one little goddess' picture who can't be older than ten; how beneath the heavy, spiritually metaphorical makeup and gown she looks so convinced, so sure of her position in the world. She truly believes she is her people's salvation. There is so much in common between the two of them it hurts, but moreso: she envies the girl. Faith was such a luxury in the Old World. A whimsy to pick and choose a random child as their deity. To not worry that they got it wrong, because in a few years they'll have another chance.

Rukia has no such leisure, because while the ones around her may consider her a miracle sent from Heaven, the very fate of civilization lies (somewhere) in her blood.

He comes to the gates on a cold day, gritting his teeth as he leads a group of five others.

The mist common to the mountain enclosure covers the hills like a blanket, so thick you can only see maybe five feet in front of you. It is a wonder the guards did not mistake him for a Hollow One, seeing how dirty and disheveled he and the others are. Luckily for them all, he is loud, boisterous, yammering on to open the fucking gates, he and his people are tired from climbing all this way, goddamn it! The guards are startled, because 1. To shout unless in emergency is forbidden within any village (even in the mainland), 2. It has been a long, long time since anyone Living tried to come up to the gates, and 3. Who does this man think he is to be just ushered in without issue, when so many before him were turned away?

Master Yamamoto, the soldiers and doctors usher her into the greeting room, where she is heavily veiled and sits directly behind Renji and Ikkaku with Master Yamamoto at the forefront. While he claims it is an act of mercy to let them within the gates, Rukia knows it was in fact only that he was afraid of what the man's shouts might bring.

It had been quite a while since they had seen a swarm of Hollow Ones, but who knows?

They are all lead in, and Rukia is able to scan each of them for herself: three men, one woman and two girls. The men and woman seem about her age, teenagers just on the cusp of adulthood. She tries not to pity the two younger girls, how they clutch each others' hands like a lifeline.

They will not be here long, she knows. Nobody has in a long time.

Master Yamamoto clears his throat. "Good comrades," he starts, eyeing each of them with what seems to be a gentle old man's smile, but Rukia knows it better to be calculating. "We welcome you to our haven, if for just a short time. We hear you have caused quite an uproar outside of our gates... Frankly, I can't help but think that quite rude, considering what dangers we all know to lie out there. Did you not consider a Hollow One could still follow? Or five? Or twenty?"

A man of the group with glasses steps in front, bowing slightly. "Sir, I apologize for my... Friend next to me, of course he exclaimed without realizing the complication of his actions, we are simply afraid, weary, and hungry-"

"We need jobs." A boy with orange hair steps in front of his friend, and it is here that Rukia truly allows herself to notice these strangers, at least this one, because she pales and shakes and thinks _Master Yamamoto's fiction stories are real: ghosts are real, there's one in front of me right_ there-

She is shaken out of her haunting with Master Yamamoto's scoff. "Clearly you are not from the mainland parts, my son. If you were, you would know that we have no positions available. We are always sure to come down the mountain when we do."

"You haven't come down the mountain in _years_ -"

"Because we have been blessed enough to not need replacement. Now, I will forgive the trespassing, the commotion too for your youth if you would kindly go back to where you came from-"

" _We were attacked._ There is no village left to return _to_."

There is an audible gasp from within the room, and a few frightened sobs echo from a few servants. Some were blessed to have a couple of family members to live up here with them, but most of the newer members-all servants and maids, never the soldiers or doctors-had been providing for their loved ones in the mainland until spots could be open. _No longer,_ Rukia thinks silently as she watches Yamamoto's face remain stoic in the face of yet another tragedy.

He lifts his hand for silence. "My heart mourns for you, comrades. If you are from Karakura, you must know that many of our members here are from your village. We will grieve for their family and friends alike. But there is simply no room, we are short enough on crops and trust alike given the last attack from Hueco Mundo for our Prized One. What we have here is sacred, and we cannot logistically afford another potential betrayal. I am sorry, but you must seek refuge elsewhere. Perhaps Rukongai will take you in."

The leader seems unsurprised, even as the people in his group look disheartened and angry alike. Instead, he pulls a sword from his back, lowering it carefully to the ground at the hostile reaction of the soldiers. He meets Yamamoto's stare the whole way as he rises to his full height again.

"Isshin-my father-sends his regards."

An audible murmer flickers through the room, but Rukia is not paying attention to that: her eyes are on Master Yamamoto's slightly paled expression.

Finally, he clears his throat. "You are Isshin's boy?"

"I am. My sisters are with me as well."

"Then I presume Isshin is...?"

"I don't know. I've been able to come all this way because I don't allow myself to think about it. As the attack was happening he told me to take this up the mountain with a grin on his face, said 'Old Man Yama owes me a debt,' or something. He was fighting them off the last I saw, but I took my friends and sisters and ran and never looked back."

Yamamoto nods slowly throughout, as if he cares. "I see. And do you have fighting capabilities, boy?"

"I've been training and fighting with this sword since before I knew what it meant."

"And the others? Are they of any use?" He looks at them all carefully.

"They are all versatile in their own ways, which I will only reveal if you give your word to let us stay. All of us."

The men stare hard at one another, until finally-to Rukia's surprise-Yamamoto gets up from his seat with a quick nod. "Very well. You and I will discuss this further in my library. Hinamori, if you would be so kind as to lead our new guests into the west wing. I believe there may be one or two rooms available to rest, however it may need some cleaning and dusting on the way in..."

The guards help Rukia up from her seat and turn her to the direction of her own quarters, but not before she sees the golden haired boy looking at her.

It's a gaze of curiosity, of searching for... Something, but... It's a look of normalcy, too. Like he's wondering what's so special about her to be wearing the lavish robes and veils she does.

Nobody has really looked that long at her before, either.

Her shoulder throbs.


End file.
